


Small Blond and Deliciously Cream Filled

by Arcadii



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Christmas fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-24
Updated: 2012-12-23
Packaged: 2017-11-22 04:49:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/605998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arcadii/pseuds/Arcadii
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spike and Xander have a chance at a real relationship, but will other factors put a stop to them before they’ve even gotten started?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Sequel of Luck Be A Vampire, Tonight

Part 1

　

It was part of their nightly ritual since Spike had agreed to move in with Xander a little over a month ago that they’d watch TV, eat whatever take-out Xander had a coupon for and could be speedily delivered – tonight it was Mr. Li’s Asian Express – and then canoodle on the couch. They hadn’t worked up to more than some fondling and steaming hot, melt-your-socks kissing. Xander had some fumbling experience with a male cousin (twice removed) on his trip to Oxnard and between the not so tender ministrations of Angelus and The Initiative, Spike (surprisingly for a vampire) was as skittish as a colt, so they were taking it slow.

　

　

Before this gentleman’s agreement, the first time Xander had stretched his arm along the back of the couch and ‘accidentally’ brushed against the short, platinum blond strands that curled at the nape of the vampires neck, Spike jumped like his jeans were on fire. “Wo-wotcha d-doin’ there, Mate?” he stuttered anxiously, balling up his fists in a defensive gesture while his milky skin flushed a pale rose, telegraphing the gamut of emotions the vampire was feeling. 

　

　

Xander’s life flashed before his wide brown eyes and he jumped up as well, his hands held out soothingly, “Whoa there, Spike, no need to take umbrage (it was funny how bits from his admittedly dismal scholastic career would show up at the oddest times), I was just stretching my arm out, you know to relieve a cramping muscle . . . in my arm . . . not a muscle that needed relieving somewhere else and I umm wasn’t really trying to touch you or anything unless you’d like to be touched, but since you’re umm acting like you want to tear my head off, which wouldn’t be of the good considering your chip, I’m getting the idea that umm that would be a no . . . to the touching, I mean.” He babbled nervously, shifting his feet as he stood over the bare-footed vampire; without his boots, Spike’s 5’10” wound up being more like a 5’8”, leaving him at least five inches shorter than his human companion.

　

　

They had been getting comfortably friendly since Xander had insisted (for Spike’s safety) that he move in with him and yes Spike could smell the arousal, but hell they’d been swilling beer, scarfing pizza and ogling Baywatch. He thought the stiffy tinting the boy’s baggy jeans and bright orange and purple Hawaiian shirt with the surfing Scooby Doos on it was the result of Pamela Anderson’s gigantic and barely-constrained-by-her-skimpy-bathing-suit-while-they-jiggled knockers. 

　

　

Spike found Xander attractive, but he’d also never had a real friend before and wasn’t sure he wanted to risk that new found friendship. Also, his past occurrences with male to male sex (more like rape) had not left him with a deep desire to repeat the experience. Did he really want a physical relationship with the whelp? Looking inward, he was surprised that he did. Was he ready for that kind of relationship right now? That would be a no, but maybe eventually . . . if Xander didn’t get tired of waiting first. Spike made a quick decision, because unlike his grand-sire, the great poof, he wasn’t keen on brooding a subject to death. “Never said I didn’ wanna be touched, jus’ don’ wanna be snuck up on, warn a bloke first.” He said in his heavy cockney accent and with the beginnings of a timid smile.

　

　

Slowly and very gently, Xander reached out to grasp Spike’s narrow chin and tilted it up. He waited for permission and found it in a pair of innocent (in spite of the demon) cornflower blue eyes and said, “Sure, Baby, we’ll take this as slow as you need to.” Just as Spike was going to protest being called ‘baby’, Xander leaned forward and gently kissed him, “Your lips are so soft.” He murmured in surprise, “and they taste of pizza sauce, oregano and beer.”

　

　

Spike blushed faintly at the compliment before grasping at his masculinity with a snort and a rejoinder of, “American piss water, you mean!” 

　

　

That had been just a few days after Halloween and by Thanksgiving they had progressed from that first chaste kiss to the tonsil hockey Olympics and Spike with his long agile tongue was going for the gold. Xander had his hand down Spike’s jeans, fondling his hard and weeping dick – the advantage to no underwear was more room for easier access, but the drawback was the very noticeable and cold wet spot that a very excited and drooling cock could cause on black denim. 

　

　

Hearing a roaring in his ears, Xander had to break away, gasping for much needed air. Spike watched with concern and more than a little guilt that he’d forgotten that his lover needed to breathe occasionally. “Sorry ‘bout that, Pet, are you alright?”

　

　

Not ready to give up despite the momentary dizziness, Xander grinned sheepishly as he tried to reassure his lover, “Just let me grab another lungful and I’ll be ready for more mouth to mouth.” 

　

　

Sitting up from where he’d been leaning into his human, Spike balled his fist up to punch Xander in the shoulder and stopped just in time as he remembered his chip. “Don’ be a daft bugger, Xan, you’re pale as a proverbial ghost an’ your ticker’s a racin’. I’m not lettin’ you bloody asphyxiate yourself over a kiss. We’ll take a breather, pun intended, before the kung pao chicken starts formin’ icicles on it.”

　

　

Doing a mock salute, Xander grinned and said, “Yes sir!” and then swooped in for a quick peck on the cool cheek, “I love it when you get all bossy and protective!” as he picked up a cold egg roll and dipped it in duck sauce before biting the end off with a sigh of satisfaction.

　

　

Spike leant forward and licked a smear of the orangey condiment from Xander’s lip and at the last moment nipped him with his human teeth. The moan and the flood of musk was worth the twinge of warning that the chip gave him. With a chuckle he sat back and wielding his chopsticks with practiced ease went back to eating his food, dunking the bits of chicken into a small cup of blood. “That’s jus’ a sample o’ wot’s for desert when good li’l boys eat up their dinner.” He was rewarded by another wave of eau de Xander and the boy trying to swallow his eggroll without chewing it. 

　

　

“Xan-pet, if you choke t’ death we won’ be able t’ get back t’ doin’ what we was doin’, slow down an’ actually chew . . .” Spike’s attention was caught by movement on the television. “Oi, it’s that bint that’s the co-anchor on the channel four evening news cast. She’s got the depth of a bucket, but her tits are nice!”

　

　

Xander used the remote to turn up the sound when he saw the buxom blonde newswoman standing outside the gates of a factory with a handful of workers milling around, shock and misery on their faces; she was holding up a package of Twinkies as she chirped cheerfully, “Yes, that’s right ladies and gentlemen, it’s the end of an era. Hostess, the snack conglomerate has announced that they will be closing their factory doors forever. If you’re a pastry connoisseur of such confections as Twinkies, Ho-Ho’s, Donettes, Ding Dongs and Fruit Pies, then I suggest you start stocking up your pantry before they’re all gone. This has been Tiffany Glass, reporting.”

　

　

“Say it ain’t so, Tiffany.” Xander begged, his expression one of shocked horror as if he’d just found out that he’d lost a good friend and in essence that’s exactly what was happening. He’d had the spongy goodness to lean on in good times and bad as long as he could remember; even longer than he’d known his best friend, Willow. Where could he turn for a quick sugary pick-me-up when he was feeling down or a celebratory sugar high when they’d kicked some big demons butt before it could destroy the world? What was going to be his reward now, huh, cruel world? 

　

　

Xander used the remote to turn off the set and just sat and stared. He ignored his dinner and worst of all, he ignored Spike. Trying to be conciliatory, Spike patted Xander on the thigh and said, “Not t’ worry, Pet, I’m sure you’ll find something else you’ll like even better.”

　

　

Xander pulled away from his lover’s hand and said in a cold voice, “I can’t believe you just said that. I know you think I’m being silly, but Twinkies are important to me.” He stood up abruptly, his eyes cold and hard as he said, “I’m tired, Spike, I’ll see you tomorrow.” And then he left without so much as a kiss on the cheek or an invitation to come to bed with him. 

　

　

Spike was shocked speechless as he stared at the retreating back of his only friend and lover. He felt his eyes burning and couldn’t fathom what the trouble could be as he slowly bent to pick up the boxes and wrappers from their aborted dinner. His eyesight was all hazy and he was having trouble seeing. He was also experiencing a burning in his chest . . . it must be heartburn, but he’d never had it before so he wasn’t sure. 

　

　

Going into the kitchen, he tossed the dinner remains into the trash bin and the aluminum beer cans into the recycling box. Spike then turned around and took one last look before setting the lock and closing the door of the apartment behind him. Xander didn’t want him anymore. Trudging towards his crypt, he looked up and searched the clear moonlit skies for the storm clouds that were causing rain to drip down his face.

　

　

***

 

　

　

Xander rubbed his burning eyes, he didn’t think he’d slept more than three hours all night and that was in half-hour intervals. He rolled over and patted the dip in the worn-out mattress that Spike had been occupying lately. He felt like such a shit for the way he’d acted, giving his lover the cold shoulder for daring to comfort him over snack cakes for gods sakes; even if it was about his beloved Twinkies, it still was no excuse, damn it!

　

　

Adjusting his morning hard on so he could get more easily to his balls, he gave himself a satisfying scritch and then with a sigh, he rolled over and got up. He had a good stretch, his arms akimbo before searching the ground for his discarded Sponge Bob boxers and found them under the edge of the bed. Pinching them between his toes, he lifted his foot until his shorts were high enough to grab and then brought them up to his face, giving them a good sniff before deciding they weren’t too ripe yet and slid them on; he really needed to get some laundry done before he ran out of passably clean clothing.

　

　

Xander’s stomach was growling, but the need to pee was more urgent and as soon as he was done ‘draining the old lizard’ – he loved that expression, but Buffy and Willow always ‘EWED,’ loudly, yelled at him and then told him he was crude when he used it – he’d have to find Spike and apologize for how he’d acted last night. He knew that the vampire would understand, because as different as they were, they were both still men and real men didn’t get all ‘weepy and girly’ from a misunderstanding. 

　

　

Opening the door to his bedroom, he walked the few steps up his short hallway to his apartment’s small bathroom. He closed the door and went over to the toilet, lifting the lid on the seat (even though Anya and her threat to castrate him if he left the seat up again were both gone, the habit was still there and it kept him from getting yelled at by Buffy and Willow on the few occasions that they’d consent to visit his humble abode) and straddled the bowl before sending his first pee of the day (the most satisfying of all) splashing into the commode. Giving Li’l Xander a tap and a couple of good shakes, he righted his boxers and then made his way to the sink. 

　

　

He took his blue toothbrush down out of the glass, leaving Spike’s red (only because they don’t come in black) one and proceeded to dry-brush his teeth. When he felt he’d gotten each tooth a couple of times, Xander rinsed off his toothbrush while swigging a mouth full of Listerine. He then spat out the astringent liquid and sucked his teeth before smiling into the mirror – they looked OK to him. Running his hand over both cheeks he decided that his light stubble was just enough to make him look ‘manly’ so he opted not to shave and then sniffed his armpits, deciding he could forego a shower if he just touched up his Right Guard; he rubbed the antiperspirant over his underarms until he was satisfied with the coverage.

　

　

Xander paused before opening the door, surprised at the feeling of iron butterflies swooping around in his belly. He didn’t understand why he felt nervous about telling Spike that he was sorry, hell he said it to Willow and Buffy all of the time! Maybe it was because with the girls he always felt less important or more like they expected his screw ups. Spike was different; he seemed to understand feeling inadequate to those around you even if he covered it up with all of that bad-assed attitude and cockiness. They also liked a lot of the same things and when Buffy wasn’t around acting all superior, they actually got along.

　

　

And now they’d taken the ‘getting along’ one step further to ‘friends with benefits; maybe someday they’d even graduate to ‘fuck buddies’ when Spike was ready, but it wasn’t like they had a relationship or anything that he had to worry about hurting the vampires feelings. He tightened his stomach muscles, effectively putting an end to the swooping antics of the flying insects and nerved himself up to opening the door. After that was accomplished, he forced one foot out and then the other, before he knew it he was walking down his short hallway into the quiet living room.

　

　

“Hey, Spike, I just wanted to say . . .” his voice faded out when he realized the living room was empty. He looked around frowning and walked over to the TV, placing a hand on the top and finding it cool so it’d been off for a while and the food remains from the evening were gone. He walked into the kitchen and saw that the box’s stamped, Mr. Li’s Asian Express and the beer cans had all been tossed into their respective bins. ‘Well, I shouldn’t be surprised that he got mad and left; I am surprised that he cleaned up first though . . . I wonder if that means something? Oh well, I’ll apologize to him tonight at The Magic Box, that’ll give him time to cool off.’ 

　

　

Trying to soothe the beginnings of a headache by rubbing a circle into the sore spot between his eyes, he sighed, ‘ I’ll have to do it without Willow and Buffy catching on though, I don’t need them ‘razzing’ me about my boyfriend and Buffy gives Spike enough shit about us protecting him from The Initiative, all he needs is for her to start giving him even more crap about being my ‘kept’ vampire; I’m sure he’d find a creative way to get rid of my ass and hers, out of revenge, chip or no chip.’ He thought as he wandered around his now empty and very lonely apartment.

　

***

 

　

　

　

The sound of tires belonging to a highly polished, silver BMW screeched up to the fence outside of the Sunnydale Hostess factory. Tiffany Glass finished putting on her lipstick while giving herself a last once-over in the rear view mirror. She patted her hair reflexively since she’d covered it in enough spray that it could have withstood a tornado before jumping out of her car and slamming the door behind her. “STOP RIGHT THERE, JARED DOSS” She screeched before running up to the channel four news van and it’s crew.

　

　

“Tiffany, what are you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be covering that human interest feature about the Virgin Mary’s likeness in a toasted English muffin?” The tall and extremely tanned man said through a forced smile of brilliantly white teeth while rolling his dark eyes and expertly juggling his microphone to adjust the knot in his blue tie.

　

　

A string of pearls vied for pride of place and bounced along with Tiffany’s ample bosom in a low-cut navy blue sheath dress that hugged her curves a little too lovingly. She finished off her patriotic ensemble with red heels, stepping gingerly over the crunching gravel, ever mindful of any scuffing. With a strength that showed in her tanned and shapely biceps, Tiffany shoved Mike, the cameraman, out of the way before stopping in front of her rival and co-anchor, Jared Doss.

　

　

She gave him a death glare as she poked him in the chest (intentionally over the tie he’d just straightened) with a perfectly manicured, blood red fingernail. “Katie Couric wouldn’t report on a puff piece like that and I’m not either.”

　

　

Jared snorted derisively and said, “Katie Couric you’re not . . .” Mike gave a nervous, high pitched giggle as Tiffany gave both of them the glare of death. Mike blanched and turned his attention to his camera, fiddling with the lens cap nervously as Jared continued, “And you do the stories that your news director tells you to do, if you want to keep your pretty little derriere employed.”

　

　

Tiffany grabbed Jared by his tie and yanked his head down until it was inches from her face. He could feel her warm, mint scented breath ghosting over his cheeks and her blue eyes glittered insanely as they bore into his own. He felt fear grip his heart as he remembered whispers about certain ‘accidents’ that befell anyone with the misfortune of crossing wills with the ambitious blonde. She gritted her teeth and growled, “I don’t care if your father-in-law is the general manager, you piece of smelly dog shit! This segment is my ticket out of here, my chance to be picked up nationally, to get away from garbage stories like the Virgin Mary in a toasted bagel . . .”

　

　

“I-i-it was an English mu-mu-muffin.” 

　

　

“SHUT UP, JARED! She screamed and smiled like a cat torturing a mouse as the timid man jumped before continuing like she’d never been interrupted, “The epidemic of fatal barbecue fork accidents and all of the other piddly shit. Chances like this only come along in a blue moon and I’m not going to let some boot-licking asshole like you keep me from my destiny!

 

　

Sensing her prey’s capitulation, Tiffany gave her patented anchor woman smile as she re-straightened the tie she had so recently been mangling, “Now Sweetie, you look like you’re not feeling very well, it’s a good thing I showed up when I did. Why don’t you go sit in the van while Mike and I finish up and then he can run you home.”

　

　

Jared’s face was pale, sweat dripping from his forehead and he wasn’t entirely sure that he hadn’t wet himself (just a little) as he nodded his head like a well stringed puppet at his benevolently smiling tormentor. He handed off the microphone before stammering, “Y-y-yes T-t-tiffany,” and shambling off toward the news van.

　

　

Scared shitless, Mike’s heart was pounding as he pulled the brim of his faded baseball cap lower over his eyes in a childish gesture of trying to hide; he just wanted to go and sit in the van with Jared, but knew that he couldn’t escape until the crazy bitch got her story. He knew the old adage about curiosity killing the cat, but she couldn’t film herself and with that knowledge to armor him, he threw caution to the wind and asked, “Tiff-squeak” Clearing his throat, he tried again, “Tiffany, how’d you know we were here this morning? I’m pretty sure Fred wouldn’t have told you, so how’d you know?”

　

　

Looking at the cameraman like he was a very dim-witted child, she gave a little laugh and said simply, “Police scanner . . . I’ve got one in my home and another in my car. I know everything that goes on in this crummy little berg.” Standing in front of the broken gate and the yard full of police cars, Tiffany gave Mike the signal to start and chirped, “The snack cake saga has taken another twist as rising panic over the unknown future of the Hostess bakery line has given rise to an apparent black market. Last night, thieves scaled the gates and attempted to steal the fleet of fully loaded trucks as they awaited orders from the corporate offices of Hostess on whether or not to distribute the last run of merchandise or to have all inventory destroyed. The thieves were able to get away with one truck before factory security was able to stop them. The Sunnydale Police Department was immediately called and I’m sure will find the culprits with their usual alacrity and efficient methods. For more updates on this and other breaking stories, be sure and stay tuned to channel four news. This is Tiffany Glass reporting.”

　

　

Smiling sweetly, the reporter tilted her head toward the cameraman and asked, “How was that?”

　

　

Not taken in by the butter-wouldn’t-melt-in-her-mouth act, Mike said, “That was perfect, Tiffany.”

　

　

“I thought so too! Why don’t you let me have the tape and I’ll run it back to editing and you can take Jared home. I’m sure he just needs some rest and Lynn’s such a perfect little wifey, I’m sure she’ll love having him home to spoil and pamper. Then she can call her dad to keep him posted on Jared’s progress and if Fred wants me to handle the anchor by myself until his son-in-law is better, who am I to say no.” She smirked happily holding her hand out until Mike gave her the tape.

　

　

“Sure Tiffany, it was obvious to everyone that Jared was working himself into a breakdown. It’s a good thing you were here this morning and Fred’s lucky that you were ready to take over at such short notice.” Mike just wanted out of there and he would do or say anything to accomplish that goal. Then he was going to take Jared home, turn in the van and move somewhere, anywhere, maybe way up north; he really doubted that the wilds of Alaska would appeal to the vicious bitch. 

　

　

“See you back at the station, Mike.” The tall blonde smiled as she fondled the tape happily.

　

　

“Sure, see you later.” ‘Not if I have anything to say about it!’ The cameraman thought.

　

***

　

Spike sat in his crypt at the Sunnydale cemetery all day, not moving from his dilapidated-saved-from-the-dump recliner where it was placed in front of the antique television with a set of mangled rabbit ears on the top (both were more junk-yard recycles). Spike stared off into space, ignoring the early, early morning movie that channel four was running, it was another Christopher Lee/Dracula flick which usually made him laugh hysterically, but he didn’t feel like laughing today – Xander didn’t want him anymore!

　

　

He’d decided that he was going to leave Sunnydale, he was tired of getting chewed up and spat out helping the slayer do HER job and getting nothing back for his trouble but some insults and a slam to the head – true he did insult her back and he enjoyed the mayhem that he was able to inflict on the demon community, but hey vampire, what else was he good for? And did those children actually think he didn’t have options, bloody hell, he could’ve killed them a hundred times over if he’d wanted to; he was a fucking master vampire – the youngest in his line and no wanking chip would keep him down for long! He could’ve arranged some very fatal accidents or hired someone to take them out one by one while he had a front row seat from the slayer’s inner circle, but he didn’t do that then and he couldn’t do it now. Vampires lived within a clan or family – that’s how they survived and even unknowingly, the Scoobies had accepted him – albeit reluctantly, but even so, that still made them family – his family and to be protected even to his final death.

　

　

That didn’t mean he had to stay, he could always make for Hell-A. Angel’d take him in grudgingly and if only to lord it over him about how helpless he was with the chip and all. ‘Still, it’d be worth taking my sire’s shit for the chance o’ drivin’ the ruddy blighter ‘round the bleedin’ bend.’ That thought was almost enough to cheer him up, but the operative word was almost. He’d been thinking on it since he’d gotten back last night (not brooding like the poof) just mulling over his alternatives when the high pitched and annoying voice of Tiffany Glass, the channel four news anchor, came over the TV. Peering through the static on his little set, he saw her standing outside of the Hostess factory again with her microphone.

　

　

“The snack cake saga has taken another twist as rising panic over the unknown future of the Hostess bakery line has given rise to an apparent black market. Last night, thieves scaled the gates and attempted to steal the fleet of fully loaded trucks as they awaited orders from the corporate offices of Hostess on whether or not to distribute the last run of merchandise or to have all inventory destroyed. The thieves were able to get away with one truck before factory security was able to stop them. The Sunnydale Police Department was immediately called and I’m sure will find the culprits with their usual alacrity and efficient methods. For more updates on this and other breaking stories, be sure to stay tuned to channel four news. This is Tiffany Glass reporting.”

　

　

Spike tuned out the rest of the morning news broadcast as he hit on a plan to ingratiate himself back into Xander’s good graces and make him love him again. All he had to do was wait for night to fall and if it didn’t work, he’d hie off for L.A. and the chance to annoy Angel – as far as his demon was concerned, it was a win-win situation.

　

　

Contd.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spike and Xander have a chance at a real relationship, but will other factors put a stop to them before they’ve even gotten started?

Part 2

Mid Evening - The Magic Box Xander had been nervous all day and regretting his decision to give Spike more time, afraid that he’d really screwed up and ruined their budding ‘thing’ (he wouldn’t use the term relationship even in his own head) that they seemed to have going between them. What made it worse was when darkness finally fell and the time for the Scooby meeting rolled around, Spike was a no-show.

The iron butterflies that had taken over his stomach this morning (that he’d banished by an act of sheer will) were back with a vengeance. They were all sitting around the table except for Giles who was behind the counter balancing out the cash register and making the deposit. He grumbled under his breath in a very un-Giles like manner at the state of his account books that he’d re-inherited after Anya left. His mutterings were interspersed with a few loud ‘GOOD LORD’s’ that gave the Scoobies a reason to stop their researching and check out the red faced British shop keeper.

Xander checked his watch, sighed and got up to look out of the front window and then asked the Scooby of the moment if they’d heard anything from Spike. After he’d done this enough times that he was beginning to sound like a broken record, Buffy’d finally had enough. Looking for any excuse to get her out of research, the slayer slammed her book and asked, “What is your deal tonight, Xander? You act like you and Spike had a lover’s quarrel and the chipped wonder is bailing on you . . .”

Xander could feel the blood seeping from his face and his eyes definitely had a ‘deer in the headlights’ kind of thing going on as he stammered, “I-I-Spi-Spike an-and I-I . . .”

Buffy’s eyes got big and round as she exclaimed, “Oh my god Xander, your screwing Spike!”

Xander gulped and his face now felt hot where all of the blood was rushing back to his head. “No, I’m not, I mean we’re not, umm we haven’t . . .” He looked helplessly at Willow for ‘best friend’ support and was surprised instead to find hurt and disappointment in her emerald eyes.

The red heads lower lip wobbled as she started in on her whining babble, “Xander, how did this happen and why didn’t you say something? I thought we were best friends - since kindergarten and the yellow crayon - and we tell each other everything, how come you never mentioned dabbling in necrophilia and, and Spike? Xander, he’s tried to kill us more times than I can shake a stick at and, and is this why Anya left? It’s got to be some kind of spell.” In desperation, she clasped her girlfriend’s hand, “Tara, Sweetie, help me look for a counter spell, we’ve got to save my Xander . . .”

Sighing, the blonde witch tried to be reassuring, as she stroked her girlfriend’s grasping hand, but her stutter was frustrating her need to explain what she knew. “Wil-Wil-Willow, no, it isn-isn-isn’t a sp-spell. I-I-I’ve seen their au-aur-auras lately and their-their-their beautifu-ful!”

Buffy ignored the hurt expression on her friend’s face and in true slayer style, went right for his jugular. “All the times I was with Angel, you let me know how much it disgusted you that my boyfriend was a vampire and here you are now, not only batting for the other team, but sleeping with the evil undead? This isn’t like you Xander . . .” Completely ignoring Tara’s reassurances, Buffy whipped out her favorite stake, Mr. Pointy, twirling it with her fingers as her hazel eyes lit up with the excitement of the hunt. “I think Wills is right, Spike must be doing something to you and it’s up to me to fix it by staking his undead ass!” She made her way to the door with a determined gait.

Giles wandered out from behind the counter polishing his glasses with a handkerchief that he’d pulled from the pocket of his tweed blazer. “Buffy, perhaps you should listen to Tara, maybe all isn’t as it seems.” He said reasonably.

Xander looked shell-shocked. He hadn’t planned on his friends finding out . . . at least for a while. He needed time to get comfortable with the idea of him and Spike in a relation . . . thing . . . ah hell, relationship. Then it registered into his foggy brain exactly what Buffy’d said and he raced to beat her to the door. “Hold up there, Buff, you’re right, I was big with the scornfulness of yours and Angel’s girlfriend/boyfriend thing, but you’ve got to realize that most of that was fueled by jealousy. Dead or alive, he was everything I wasn’t . . . tall, handsome-in-a-dark-brooding-kind-of-way, and lots and lots of experience plus he had the girl that I wanted. And most important, I didn’t know him and I didn’t want to know him, ‘cause then that would have made him a real person and not just a monster.”

“Why are you telling me this now, Xander? Buffy asked with incredulity as he reached out and took Mr. Pointy gently out of her hands.

“Because you’re my friend and I needed you to know why I’m not going to let you hurt Spike.” He looked back toward the table where Giles was standing and Willow and Tara were sitting. “You’re all my friends and I’m sorry I didn’t level with you about Spike’s and my relationship, but honestly it just came out of the blue. Ever since I pulled his sorry, but beautiful ass . . .” 

Willow and Buffy simultaneously said, “Ewwww!”

“That’s s-so s-sweet!” murmured Tara as she blushed and gave her girlfriend, Willow, a tiny smile.

Giles polished his glasses even more furiously as he exclaimed, “Good lord!”

And Xander continued without missing a beat due to his friend’s reactions, “out of that tree at the cemetery last month and I made him move in because The Initiative almost got him again, and we’ve found that we have a lot in common, but we haven’t done ‘THE DEED’ yet,” he made air quotes, “because Spike has issues and we’re taking it slow.” He took a deep breath and stood up to his full height from the slouch that he usually adopted when around Buffy and looked at her soberly with his deep, brown eyes. “But if you guys can’t get over the two of us being together, than we’ll leave. The only thing tying me to this god-forsaken town is you guys and since I’m not the slayer and it isn’t my mission to defend the hellmouth, then I’ll take my vampire boyfriend and find some place else to live . . . that is, if he’ll still have me!”

Buffy smirked and then giggled as she poked him in the chest with her index finger, “You just called Spike your boyfriend. Man, Dawn is going to be so pissed that she spent the night at Janice’s and missed out on all of this and the fact that the two most gorgeous guys she knows, and that’s a quote – sorry Giles, have the hots for each other is just going to add more fuel to that teenage fire, I bet!”

“And what do you mean, if he’ll still have me? You’re a wonderful person and my best friend and Spike’s lucky to have you! Willow exclaimed indignantly.

“Well,” Xander explained sheepishly, “we sorta had a fight about Twinkies not being around anymore and I got mad at him when he tried to make me feel better . . . and . . . and”

The witches looked into each others eyes knowingly as their brows furrowed and then they nodded almost as if they’d been in silent communication and came to an agreement. “Xander, you’re my best friend and I love you dearly, but do I need to give you my ‘shovel and hurting Spike’ speech?”

Buffy snorted as Xander blushed and grinned, “Uh, no, Wills, I don’t believe I need you to give me that little speech.”

Giles glasses finally seemed to pass his cleanliness test as he stopped polishing the lenses and sat them on his nose, pushing them back into their accustomed place on the bridge with his forefinger. “Xander, if your feelings for Spike are genuine, then I suggest you find your ‘boyfriend’ if I can actually believe myself using that term to describe Spike, and inform him of your epiphany!”

“Come again, G-man?”

Tara got up and walked over to him and boldly grasped his arms with her dainty hands, and said demurely with a delicate smile. “Tell him you’re s-s-sorry, th-that you love him and then g-g-give him a big make up k-k-kiss!”

“Yeah Xander, go get your man, I mean vampire!” Buffy grinned and held out her hand, “And since you’re going to be staking Spike with something besides Mr. Pointy . . .”

“Buffy! I see no need to bring vulgarity into the conversation.

 

Feeling sufficiently chastised, a blushing Buffy looked at her watcher and explained apologetically, “Sorry, Giles, it was just a little harmless teasing and I want my favorite stake back.”

Clearing his throat, Giles said, “Carry on, then!”

Xander couldn’t believe it, he not only came out about being gay, but told his family (the only one that counted) that he was in love with a vampire and they not only didn’t object, but they approved. He flipped the stake in the air and ran, yanking the door open, sending the bells into a frantic jingling. He smiled as he watched Buffy grab the stake, from midair and spin it expertly in her fingers like a drumstick before saying with a grateful smile, “Thanks guys, you’ll never know how much I appreciate all of you!” and with that, he was off to look for his vampire.

***

 

　

Spike parked the Desoto a block away from the Hostess factory and walked warily up the rest of the way, surreptitiously on the look out for company security or the police. Glancing around for cameras and finding none, he then utilized his enhanced senses to check out the premises. He didn’t see anything, but his preternatural hearing enabled him to pinpoint the location of the whistling guard as he made his rounds on the other side of the building and with only one car in the lot, he felt it was safe to go inside and reconnoiter.

He moved quickly, almost faster than the human eye could see as he sailed over the razor wire topped chain link fence, landing with barely a whisper to mark his passing. Spike walked around the factory, always staying just ahead of the guard, until he made his way to the loading docks. There were empty trucks backed into the bays with the loaded ones parked to the side and a vacant spot with spray painted numbers and arrows on the asphalt where the police had marked the crime scene. He inhaled deeply, letting the overwhelming scent of sugar and sponge cake permeate his senses until he’d be able to track the faintest whiff of the familiar aroma; Smiling, he thought to himself, ‘I’d be able to follow it anywhere – it smells like Xander.’

Figuring that he’d gotten all that he could from the area, Spike followed the tire tracks to the front gate to see if he could trail the scent of the truck that got away and follow it to the bandits hide out. Then he’d steal the truck away and . . . that’s as far as he’d gotten. He couldn’t decide whether or not to give the whole soddin’ treasure trove to his boy and be proclaimed Xander’s hero or hide the goodies, parceling them out a few at a time and getting duly rewarded for saving Xander from the catastrophe of being Twinkiless. 

Both plans were bloody brilliant and he couldn’t choose which would be the most satisfying – he’d have to think on it and decide later. Spike moved quickly passed the gate that hung precariously from its hinges after it had been rammed by the escaping truck; the only thing holding it together now was a heavy-duty chain and padlock. He inhaled deeply catching the overwhelming scent of burning rubber intertwined with the still obvious aroma of sugar and sponge cake on the damp December breeze. Jumping the fence, it took Spike less than a moment to decide on the correct direction before moving down the road in a black blur as he followed the olfactory trail that would lead him to his prize.

***

 

Xander was out of breath, his yellow pineapple covered Hawaiian shirt and jeans sticking to his sweat slicked body; he’d run all of the way across town from The Magic Box to the gates of the Sunnydale Cemetery. A life time of surviving on the hellmouth and an instinctively cautious nature nagged him to slow down and take in his surroundings. He pulled his own trusty stake from it’s usual place in his back pocket as he cautiously made his way to Spike’s crypt.

Hearing the TV blaring, Xander smiled mischievously as he swung the heavy bronze door open and said teasingly, “Hey fangless, why didn’t you stick . . . hey you’re not Spike! What are you doing in Spike’s crypt, sitting in Spike’s chair and watching Spike’s TV?” Xander eyed the demon that looked like a man with a severe skin condition menacingly.

The demon removed his hand from where it had been buried in a bag of Bugles as he licked the salt from his fingers while his red eyes rolled in pleasure before registering Xander’s presence. “Oh hi there, I’m Clem, Spike’s friend, would you like some Bugles?” He offered. At Xander’s negative shake of the head, he continued, “Spike had a fight with his boyfriend and left. He said I could have his place ‘cause he wouldn’t be needing it anymore.”

“Spike left?” Xander asked with dread as his face drained of color and he staggered, his hand behind him clutching at the thin air for support.

Xander lurched toward Clem and asked desperately, “Did he say where he was going?”

“Nah, he just gave me the place and took off, he looked wild and crazy, but not in a good way if you know what I mean. I’ve told him before not to get involved with humans, they’d only break his heart . . . hey, what did you say your name was?” The demons face drew together causing more wrinkles as he narrowed his eyes at his unidentified guest.

Xander started to back up, his face white with shock as he stammered, “I’m Xander and I didn’t mean to hurt him . . . I’ve got to find him and make him understand that I love him!” With that the young man whirled and ran for the door.

　

　

Contd.

　


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spike and Xander have a chance at a real relationship, but will other factors put a stop to them before they’ve even gotten started?

Part 3

　

Spike had followed the scent trail to a farm on the outer reaches of Sunnydale. He used his vampire stealth to blend into the shadows, checking out the scene before barging in; his grandsire never gave him credit for ‘using his head’, but he’d never have survived as long as he has without learning to use caution when it was needed.

 

A warm glow radiated from the windows of the house along with the strings of Christmas lights on the eaves and the illuminated nativity scene surrounded by a snowman, nutcracker and Santa on a Harley made this place stand out in the surrounding darkness; Spike wished for his coolest pair of Ray-bans as the glare was making his eyes ache. He could hear movement at the door as a female voice asked, “Wade, have you seen Joey?”

 

And a male voice shouted back from another part of the house, “Yeah, he and his friends went out into the woods for a campout. Oh, Mary – Honey, when you get finished with what you’re doin’, could you bring me another beer?”

 

The back door opened as a middle aged woman with short red hair and dressed in a frumpy housecoat sighed as she carried out a large trash bag and tossed it into the garbage pail behind the garage, muttering, “Men, good for nothing lay-abouts, Honey can you get me a beer? Mom, there aren’t any clean towels, can you do some laundry? What are they good for besides procreation, the sooner us women learn how to do that for ourselves, the better off the world will be!” the grumbling and grousing went on even after she returned to the house.

 

Spike gave the house a wide berth as he flitted from shadow to shadow, making his way into the welcome darkness and following the trail that had now been enhanced by the sweet smell of marijuana. He was a predator, the top of the food chain and as at home in the woods as he would be on the streets of a big city, stalking his prey. It didn’t take him long to find them. There were four of what looked to be teenage boys sprawled around a fire pit that had burned down to flickering embers; their bodies saturated in weed with empty Twinkies, Donettes, Ding Dongs and Fruit Pie wrappers strewn all over the ground. ‘That channel four bint was wrong, the Twinkies weren’ ripped off by the black-market, they was ripped off by a bunch o’ teenage pot-heads.’ 

 

Spike noticed that the front end of the truck that was parked just a few feet away had been damaged, its headlights undoubtedly broken in its wild escape through the gate. ‘Well, won’ need the lights with my vampire night-vision,’ he thought as he prepared to hot-wire the engine, but something told him to check inside and sure enough – the keys were still in the ignition. He went around the back and before he slid down the door, he felt a little charitable to the teens for giving him this opportunity, so smiling, he pulled out a box of each snack treat, leaving them for the kids to find when they woke from their drug and carb induced stupor.

 

He then got in the cab, turning on the key and the radio blared out with the strains of a country song - loudly. Startled, Spike checked to see if the noise had awakened Joey and his pals and not a muscle moved as the vampire eased the truck out of the trees and back to the road. He was anxious to get back to Xander, deciding to get on his way before he reached over to the radio to find some decent music. That was when he discovered that the tuning dial didn’t work. Shrugging his black leather clad shoulders, he then tried to turn it off, but the on/off switch wasn’t working either. 

 

Trying to keep one eye on the road and the other on the offensive appliance as well as keep up his speed, Spike decided to get a grip on the device and pull it out. Despite his enhanced vampiric hand-eye coordination, the truck swayed dangerously on the road. Grabbing the wheel with both hands as his ears were assaulted with the sounds of a yodeling male human, Spike tried to punch his fist through the face of the radio and again the truck swerved from side to side, almost as if it were trying to protect itself from harm. The piercing sounds were giving him a headache and that was when he recognized the *song as the one used in the movie, Mars Attacks. In the movie, the humans used the high-pitched caterwauling to explode the brains of the alien invaders and right now, Spike knew exactly how the Martians felt.

 

Out of self preservation, Spike again tried to lunge for the possessed piece of equipment as he spied a yellow blur dart across the road in front of him. He jammed on the brakes and swerved, taking himself and the truck through a fence and a stand of shrubbery as the vehicle jounced over the ruts and uneven ground, knocking over tombstones and finally plowing into a tree. 

 

Spike tried to control his mad flight, but even with vampiric strength, he was unable to deal with the trajectory of the crashing behemoth as he saw the tree and its projecting limb getting closer and closer. Unstoppable force met its immovable object, Spike heard breaking glass and felt a pain in his chest just before everything went black.

 

***

 

Xander ran recklessly through the cemetery, unconcerned for his own safety as all he could think about was finding Spike and fixing the mess that he’d made. He was so lost in his own world of what he would do to make it up to his vampire that he ran out into the dark road and right in front of a swiftly moving truck with no head lights. The truck had already been unsteady before it veered sharply to avoid hitting him. “Ah, shit, now what have I done?” he said to the ether as he sprinted through the debris field left by the lumbering vehicle.

He saw the truck crash into a dead tree as he heard the garbled sounds of Slim Whitman singing, Indian Love Call rising up from the wreck. “Oh, man, it wasn’t enough that I almost killed a guy with a hammer at Halloween, even if he was an Initiative ass trying to capture my vampire, but now I’ve really done it, I’ve gone and caused a vehicular homicide with a Twinkie delivery man for Christmas.” Glancing up to the heavens, Xander asked of any and all omnipotent powers, “You really hate me, don’t you?”

He moved to the wreckage, adrenalin causing his limbs to shake and his knees to knock as he peeked fearfully into the crushed cab. It took Xander a moment to recognize the figure slumped against the steering wheel, as he pushed the precious body back to rest against the seat. His blood ran cold as he noticed the protruding tree limb impaling the seat between the leather clad bicep and chest – a miraculous few inches that resulted in an injured vampire instead of a pile of dust. 

“Oh god, Baby, are you ok?” Xander patted the cold, blood soaked cheeks gently with his warm hands. “Spike, Sweetheart, talk to me” he called desperately to the unconscious vampire as the chorus to Grandma Got Run Over By A Reindeer chirped merrily in the background interspersed with the hiss of water dripping onto a hot radiator, it’s iron-y scented steam permeating the air.

Spike regained consciousness with a start, his last memory of a wooden tree limb heading his way. “Blimey, but that was a close one! Xan is that you?” He asked, blinded from the blood that was escaping from the deep gash that ran along his forehead.

“Yeah, you bleached idiot, it’s me. What the fuck were you doing driving like a bat out of hell without your headlights on, you almost ran me down!” Finding a wad of Taco Bell napkins stuffed into the pocket of the door, Xander grabbed them and started dabbing the blood out of Spike’s eyes before using them to staunch the flow from the vampires injured brow. Picking up Spike’s limp hand, he forced it into position to hold the makeshift bandage applying pressure and growling, “Keep it there.” As he checked the vampire for other injuries and finding nothing more serious than cuts and bruises as he thought wryly, ‘you have to admire the constitution of the undead!’

“Wouldn’ta hit ya, vampire reflexes here, ya twat” he said sullenly.

Then it registered what Spike had been driving and he remembered the news report from this morning, “Oh my god, Spike, you stole the Twinkies truck! The cops are gonna be after you, we gotta get outta here!”

“Relax Mate, I didn’ steal the truck . . .” he considered what he’d said thoughtfully and changed direction, “well actually I did, but not from the factory. Stole it from the blokes that stole it originally and the Sunny-D police, unlike their counterparts anywhere else in the world are totally clueless an’ couldn’ tell their arses from a hole in the ground.” The injured vampire grinned impishly. 

Xander had turned him around; facing out of the door with his body situated strategically between Spike’s spread legs as he brushed up against some of the blonds more prominent areas. Pain was an aphrodisiac to vampires and Spike’s body was swelling in all of the right places as he placed his tongue behind his lip, forcing it into his most adorable pout. So turned on by his human, Spike ignored his past as he moaned breathily, “Love . . . need you now, please!”

Latching onto the strong shoulders, Spike pulled Xander against him as he rubbed their corresponding parts together. Acknowledging that the chip would keep him from penetrating his boy, he licked his lips in anticipation of the boy taking him as he kicked off his boots and started to shuck his jeans one handed while trying to separate Xander from his own clothing. 

A little slow on the uptake from the adrenalin crash and now his blood migrating south, a dazed Xander asked, “Spike, what . . .” as he felt cool fingers brush against his hot, throbbing cock. Realizing where they were . . . in an unsafe cemetery . . . in public where anyone could see them including his friends on a patrol in said unsafe cemetery . . . underneath the starry skies with his breath misting in the chill of the air as his logical side tried for all of two seconds to put a halt to the proceedings before being overridden by his animal self wanting to lay claim to it’s mate.

Dropping his pants, he growled a victorious, “Hell yeah!” before pushing Spike back across the seat and climbing over his excited and half naked lover. Refusing to hurt the injured vampire more than he already was, Xander looked frantically around for something to ease the way. 

Spike squirmed underneath him enticingly as he whined in his throat, “Come on Xan, do it now, ‘m not human don’ need no poncy lube, please!”

“Spike I’m not going to brutalize you like all of the others have,” he said sternly his face in a dark scowl, “I need us to be different, I’m different and I won’t hurt you, now come on, Baby, work with me here!” The only thing he could find was an unopened package of Twinkies on the dashboard. In desperation, he ripped it open and bit off the end of one of the snack cakes, sucking out the greasy cream and lifting Spike’s legs until his bare toes tapped against the glass of the unopened passenger window as he tongued the slick mass into the vampire’s tight opening.

Spike’s eyes rolled back in their sockets as he felt Xander’s warm tongue stretching into him and stroking the wet softness into his inner walls and almost, but not quite reaching his prostate, just teasing him with the promise of what was to come. “Gnnngh, Xan-pet, please . . . need more.” Spike groaned as he fucked himself on the wet muscle.

Pulling out, Xander sat up and watched his vampire writhe and whimper before him and he felt his own groin tighten with need. He felt the elemental spirit of the hyena that had once possessed him and had never been evicted, just submerged until it was needed, rise to the surface. His eyes flashed a brilliant emerald green as he took himself in hand and with one thrust, buried himself to the hilt in Spike’s delectable ass. 

He felt out of control as he lifted his head skyward and gave three victorious yips as he conquered the tight hole that fit him like a satin glove, squeezing almost to the point of pain. Xander lowered himself onto Spike as their sweat slicked bellies warmed the vampire’s engorged cock with the friction of their thrusting. Spike lowered his legs until they encircled Xander’s body, using his feet to spur his human onward, racing for completion; he was almost there and only needed one more thing to complete the claim.

Xander’s wild nature was exultant at having his mate with him finally in every way, there was but one thing left to do . . . he raised his head and struck at the side of Spike’s neck with his sharp, but still human teeth, controlling his mate as he obliterated all prior claims. Xander’s iron hard shaft pistoned into Spike’s clenching ass, ramming into the vampire’s prostate with every thrust until Spike’s heels dug into his back, his spasming fingers ripping into the upholstery of the seats and his back arching into a perfect bow as he came with a shout of “Xander!”

Gasping in unneeded air, Spike reveled in Xander’s claiming, feeling an ache in his undead heart to mark Xander as well, but he hadn’t been released and couldn’t move his head, he growled low in his throat until his new mate instinctively read his desire and released the bruised and bloody flesh, turning his own head and offering his bared throat to his vampire. 

Once the needle-like fangs entered his flesh and he felt the gentle suckling, Xander moaned in elation, murmuring, “That’s it Baby, take it, take me, love you so much!” Three more powerful thrusts was all it took to send Xander over the edge with a howl before Spike released his throat and took his mouth in a bloody kiss. Spike’s already healed brow was ridged and his blue eyes rimmed with a glowing amber ring as he came again, growling with his mate - bless the maker for an almost instant vampiric refractory period. 

Both of them sated and relaxing in the afterglow as they gave each other small kisses and gentle touches, too exhausted to do more. Xander thought he must be addicted to Spike’s lips as he kissed him again and sighed, “I know it sounds girly, but I think it’s fitting that our first time was under the tree where it all started, kind of poetic don’t you think?” Spike’s fuses were still too blown to do more than nod in agreement as Xander continued, “I’m sorry I made you think that I cared more about Twinkies than I did about you. I don’t know how it happened, and I know it’s sappy and you’ll probably hate it, but I need you to know how much I love you . . . you’re my life now . . . the two of us, together forever or at least as forever as a human can give you!”

Worry sucked the tranquility right out of Spike as he started nervously, “Umm, Xander, there’s something I think I should tell you . . . we’re a mated pair now, bonded . . . like marriage for demons and regular infusions of my blood will extend your life and enhance your healing abilities. I can’t give you forever, Love, but close enough t’ almost not matter . . .” ‘and,’ he thought to himself, ‘when you go . . . I’ll go with you, coz life won’ have no meanin’ any more without my Xander.’ 

Spike bit his lip and waited for the shit to hit the fan, but all he got was a grinning Xander and a big kiss filled with an enthusiastic tongue. “Spike, that’s great! But I don’t have anything to give you . . .”

Spike put his fingers over Xander’s mouth, preventing him from saying another word, “You’ve given me your home and your heart, Pet, and that means more to me than anything else in the world!” and then he gave his lover an Olympic tonsil hockey kiss that curled Xander’s toes in his black Nike’s. As they were kissing, they felt the truck rock and heard a lot of thumping sounds. 

Startled, they both grabbed for their pants and foregoing their foot wear, they ran around to the back of the truck, Spike in game-face and Xander brandishing his stake. They were confronted with an empty truck – a completely empty truck. Not one case, not one package of Twinkies, not even an empty wrapper was left in the back of the vehicle. They looked around and found the demon population of Sunndale Cemetery making off with the goodies.

Spike started off after a horned Fyarl demon, a box of Ding Dongs tucked under each scaly arm, but Xander held him up and said with a quirky smile, “Let him go, Baby, let them all go. After all, I’ve got the only Twinkie that counts.”

 

His scarred eyebrow crawled up his now smooth forehead, an expression of puzzlement on his beautiful face, Spike asked warily, “Wot Twinkie would that be, now, Love?”

“You, you’re my Everlasting Twinkie – small, blond and deliciously cream filled and I can’t wait to fill you again.” Tugging on the leather clad and unresisting arm, he kissed the mouth that was opening to protest and said, “Let’s go home, Spike, let’s go home.”

They walked off arms about each other as Spike asked Xander, “Was there somethin’ you been meanin’ t’ tell me ‘bout your eyes turnin’ green, your chompin’ my neck and all of the howlin’?”

Xander grinned and laughed, leaning his head on his shorter lover’s shoulder as he said, “Did I ever tell you about the time I was possessed by a hyena back when I was in high school?” 

Clem watched them pass the gates of the cemetery from the vantage point of his new home before smiling and closing the heavy bronze door. He happily patted the cases of Hostess snack cakes that he’d pilfered and viciously protected from the other looting demons; over half of the trucks inventory filled the inner sanctum of the crypt. “I’ll let them finish their honeymooning before I give them their wedding present or should it be a Christmas present? I guess it depends on how long the honeymoon lasts.” He said thoughtfully before crunching on a crispy Bugle.

***

 

That night on the channel four news, an older man dressed in a dark suit with a distinguished looking silver moustache that matched his full head of silver hair, said with a smile, “Good evening ladies and gentlemen. My name is Fred Stepford** and I’m the owner and general manager of channel four. I’m filling in for our news anchor, Jared Doss as he’s had a family emergency and has been called away for a few days. Now I know I’m not as handsome as Jared,” he chuckled as a self deprecating grin graced his striking features, “but I’ve done my time in front of the camera as well as putting in a few years behind the scenes as head of Disney’s animatronics department. Once I retired, I started looking for the perfect town where I could live with my wife and daughter, and Sunnydale fit the bill flawlessly. I bought this station and my life has been perfect ever since, but that’s enough about me. The other change I wanted to announce is that our sweet Tiffany has decided to step down from the news desk so that she will have more time to care for her family; she’ll be filling the part-time position in the weather department. Take it away, Tiffany.” He said with a sweep of his hand. 

He surreptitiously pressed a control button that was hidden in his pocket and the cameras panned to a beautiful blonde woman clothed in a diaphanous pink chiffon dress that covered her demurely from knee to wrist and yet the neckline plunged, revealing the curves of her well endowed bust; a strand of pearls dipped provocatively down her cleavage and a pair of pink stiletto pumps finished off her ensemble. She stood in front of a map of California and chirped animatedly, “That’s right Fred, as a woman, my main focus has to be my family at home, but I’m happy to help fulfill the needs of my channel four family as well in whatever position you require.” She flashed a radiant smile at the station manager . . . a radiant smile that never warmed her cold, dead eyes. “Now let’s take a look at our local weather. Tomorrow will be partly cloudy with zero percent chance of rain and the wind will be . . .” 

　

~The End~

　

　

*Mars Attacks video http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-MhgnMX73Pw

**This idea was borrowed from the movie, The Stepford Wives based on the book by Ira Levin http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Y9WOMDsMy78


End file.
